Putting his hands together, palm to palm, Tomotada sank to his knees and recited a prayer for the dead before the willow stumps.
Foolish man, he thought to himself, what would people think to see you praying over willow stumps?
Then hands still palm to palm, he once again chanted the words that bring peace to those gone beyond this earthly life.
Tomotada’s pilgrimage was over. He built a hut on the spot, and there he remained. In the spring he discovered a green shoot growing from the stump of the young willow. Tomotada tended the shoot. It grew into a graceful sapling, which put forth slender leaves that rustled and whispered in the breeze. At night the music those leaves made moved through his dreams. “Green Willow,” a voice sang to that music, “Green Willow.”
The tree grew taller and more beautiful with each passing year.
At last Tomotada’s life came to an end. A seed drifted down from the tree to rest where his bones had joined the earth. In time a new shoot came forth. The shoot grew and grew until it too was a sturdy tree. The trunks of the two willows grew together. The branches intertwined. Down under the earth the roots found each other in the darkness and embraced.
When the wind moves, rustling the leaves of those trees, it is as if they speak. “Tomotada,” one tree seems to whisper, like a dreamer turning in sleep.
And the other seems to murmur as if in tender reply, “Green Willow, Green Willow.”
Putting his hands together, palm to palm, Tomotada sank to his knees and recited a prayer for the dead before the willow stumps.Foolish man, he thought to himself, what would people think to see you praying over willow stumps?Then hands still palm to palm, he once again chanted the words that bring peace to those gone beyond this earthly life.Tomotada’s pilgrimage was over. He built a hut on the spot, and there he remained. In the spring he discovered a green shoot growing from the stump of the young willow. Tomotada tended the shoot. It grew into a graceful sapling, which put forth slender leaves that rustled and whispered in the breeze. At night the music those leaves made moved through his dreams. “Green Willow,” a voice sang to that music, “Green Willow.”The tree grew taller and more beautiful with each passing year.At last Tomotada’s life came to an end. A seed drifted down from the tree to rest where his bones had joined the earth. In time a new shoot came forth. The shoot grew and grew until it too was a sturdy tree. The trunks of the two willows grew together. The branches intertwined. Down under the earth the roots found each other in the darkness and embraced.When the wind moves, rustling the leaves of those trees, it is as if they speak. “Tomotada,” one tree seems to whisper, like a dreamer turning in sleep.And the other seems to murmur as if in tender reply, “Green Willow, Green Willow.”
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